Leaving the Family that Hurt Me to Find Beauty

I was born in Souten, a village so ordinary that its only noteworthy trait was its poverty.

The Lewis family was one of the better-off households there, owning three mud houses and some meager fields. They had enough to feed themselves and a little left over to sell for money.

In this place, where sons were highly valued over daughters, my little sister, Amber Lewis, and I still managed to have enough to eat.

I knew my parent had always wanted a son, and I was aware that daughters in even poorer families were often sold at birth or drowned in the river behind the mountains if they couldn't be sold.

For this reason, I was grateful to them and would eagerly do all the chores. I cooked, cleaned, chopped wood, fed the pigs, and cleaned the pigsty... I fear they might find me useless.

Later, when my mother became pregnant, smiles became more frequent on their faces.

They even shared some of the nourishing chicken soup meant for my mother with Amber and me. The golden bowl, glistening with oil droplets, had a piece of chicken settling at the bottom.

Holding the bowl carefully, Amber and I swallowed our saliva over and over, glancing at each other, neither daring to sip the sacred broth first.

It wasn't until my mother urged us to wash the dishes that we finally, reluctantly, drank the soup.

It was delicious. I licked the bowl clean, and Amber chewed on the bone scraps, trying to suck out every last bit of juice before spitting them out.

I cleaned the stove and boiled water, bringing it into my mother's room for her to soak her feet.

As she gently caressed her barely swollen belly, she leaned against my father, her face brimming with hope. They mused about my younger brother's future, from choosing his name to imagining his university days and eventual marriage.

I carefully massaged my mother's feet, hearing her voice loftily reach my ears. I looked up at her.

"Angela, make sure you look after your brother. How much money will you give him when he gets married?" Her usually pale, wrinkled face glowed with a rare maternal radiance.

Though I knew her concern was for my brother, I still felt overjoyed.

Excitedly, I replied, "I'll give him everything!"

They were thrilled to hear this, praising me for my thoughtfulness.

Back in my room, I shared the conversation with Amber, who was equally delighted.

"I'll give our little brother a hundred million!"

2

The good times didn't last long; a fierce storm ruined this year's harvest.

The atmosphere at home turned cold and oppressive.

Dad sat in the yard, smoking his pipe all through the night, while Mom sighed on the bed.

I knew they were worried about my unborn brother.

So, I became even more reticent, diligently doing chores, careful not to provoke the adults' ire.

Even the little free time I had was spent picking fruits on the mountain or fishing in the river to earn some money to help with household expenses.

When I finally handed over the money I had saved up to my parents, a flicker of light appeared in my mother's dim eyes; her brow relaxed slightly, and she showed a faint smile.

It was only then that I could slightly ease my worries, thinking that as long as I was a bit more sensible and worked a little more complicated, things would surely get better.

But bad things still happened.

That day, after cutting grass for the pigs and returning home, I put down my basket and looked around the house but couldn't find Amber.

"Amber, Amber!"

The midday sun outside was fiercely hot, casting a stark, blinding glare, while cicadas screeched tirelessly.

The main hall was empty, and Amber, who should have been playing in the back room, was nowhere to be seen.

A sudden emptiness gripped my heart, and a fine, cold sweat broke out on my palms and soles as I frantically searched from room to room.